


Dany's Nightshade Journey

by azgx29, DaceyRemembers



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Canon Compliant, Commentary, Snark, Spoilers for Book 2 - A Clash of Kings, Spoilers for Book 3 - A Storm of Swords
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:36:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24046747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azgx29/pseuds/azgx29, https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaceyRemembers/pseuds/DaceyRemembers
Summary: Daenerys Targaryen must venture into a most odd place in order to learn of mysterious prophecies. But the shade of the evening she drinks might as well be acid.Originated from a text adventure game on Discord.
Kudos: 1





	Dany's Nightshade Journey

The grand city of Qarth was not so grand as the merchants said. Daenerys had come to this desert oasis after wandering across the Red Waste for gods knew how long, and the city gave her a most cold reception. Now, she stood outside of a place where visions were born and prophecies foretold, in the hope of finding some solace to this madness. Drogon lay himself across her shoulder, protecting her. Jorah and her khalasar waited elsewhere, none too happy of what lay ahead.

You stand outside the House of the Undying; it is a cold, foreboding place, past a dark mass of trees. The door - a tall oval not dissimilar to that of a face - leads inside. The warlock Pyat Pree stands beside you, beckoning to the great structure. An immaculately-dressed dwarf holding a silver tray that carries a blue liquid stands idly by.

Just as you're about to enter, Pyat Pree calls back to you.

"My Queen, you must drink the shade for this to work.”

You drink it. Seven hells, what is that taste? But suddenly, as it goes down, you feel a wondrous sensation, the likes of which you've never felt before. You wish there were still more, but the glass empties before you can blink.

The warlock looks pleased. "Now you may enter.”

You find yourself in a large stone antechamber. It's largely unremarkable. There are four doors lining the walls.

Not hesitating, you step through the door and find yourself in a chamber identical to the last. Like before, there are four doors here.

As before, you enter the door and find yourself...in yet another chamber with yet again four doors. 

"Sorcery or a lack of creativity?" You think to yourself. Drogon seems to share your displeasure.

You put your hand on the handle, but before you push it open, you recall the warlock's advice. "Only go through the right door.”

You open the right door, expecting yet another chamber. You're not disappointed, but this one looks different. It's got an oval likeness and a wood finish. There are six doors here.

You push through the door, and walk into a hallway. Large, yet strangely empty. It's lit only by a row of torches on the right wall, enough to make out the high ceiling. The carpet must have beautiful once, but it's all faded now. Drogon takes off, but does not get far down the hall. You hear him slam into some darkened structure.

You hear a cacophony of sounds coming from within the western walls.

You come across a closed door. The sounds within make Drogon screech. It's as if someone is trying to break through, and you swear that you can hear distant voices - orders, screaming.

You pull on the handle, unsure of yourself. Do you really want to do this?

Throwing caution to the wind, you pull open the door. Maybe some wonders lay on the other side.  
A bright light breaks through the opening, and the faces of soldiers clad in the armor of the usurper's stag are illuminated by torches. They're using a battering ram of some sort to break down the door.

"What sorcery is this?" one of the soldiers screams out.

"She's a witch!" another answers. "Fell her!"

Staring wide-eyed at the mass of stags with fire in their eyes, you find yourself unable to move. Perhaps it's best to move on, yes?

Closing the door, you feel your heart racing. You know, you're very fortunate that I'm not a sink or swim narrator. The Sierra narrator would never have stood for that. You'd have opened the door and been eaten by a grue or somesuch. I like you, so let's keep it that way.  
You follow the hall down. A strange piping noise emanates from behind another closed door. Drogon's tail erratically vibrates as you pass it.

You really do like deviating from the script, don't you? Well far be if from me to withhold such wonders from your eyes.

You push open the door, and it leads into a vast outdoor scene. Hundreds of what look like...reavers? On their coats, a kraken sigil is imprinted. They're watching someone, or something with much curiosity.  
Following their gaze, you see another reaver, this one with an eyepatch and lips blue from nightshade standing above them. By his side, a man blows on a pipe. The noise is enough to make Drogon start flying erratically.

Wise decision. I think you're getting good at this. But let's not celebrate just yet.

Closing the door behind you, you continue down the hall. The piping fades away, and Drogon calms. All is quiet, except for the beating of your heart. The next door you come across is open.

"I will not look, I will not look..." You whisper.

Hurrying past, you see still more doors ahead. Try as you might, temptation does not like being turned down. Through the next door, you see a beautiful maid, naked as the day she was born. Several dwarves, red-faced and feral-looking, force her to the floor and begin to take turns having their way.

Okay, this is a little lurid. I wasn't aware we were watching a video nasty. Who wrote this?

Yes, I think that's best. You continue on down the hall, coming to yet another open door. Now this is...something else. What you see before you is a savage slaughter. Bodies lie in pools of congealing blood, missing limbs and clutching spoons and goblets. Tables and chairs have been overturned and the fowl and lamb has landed in the floor. Banners you're unfamiliar with adorn the walls - one a trout, one a set of towers. Above the carnage, a dead man with the head of a wolf sits on a throne, wielding a leg of lamb. A beautiful crown adorns the grey wolf's head.  
Guess someone didn't like the fowl.

You must be a mind reader. Honestly, this is starting to make me go crazy. I shall have a word with the author once this is finished.

You run and run, eventually falling short of breath near a pair of magnificent doors. They swing open as you near them, and your curiosity overwhelms you. Peering inside, you spy a large cavern, grander than any you've seen before. Skulls of dragons adorn the room, and a throne made of blades sits atop a landing. An old man with vibrant robes, long silver hair, and an unkempt beard sits atop it.

"Burn them all," he said to a wizened man below him. "Let him be king of the ashes." 

Drogon shrieks and sticks his claws into your skin, but neither the king nor the other man take note of your presence.

Alright look, I'll save you some thought. This guy is your father, and despite what your brother told you, he's not a nice guy at all. Viserys was an idiot, but you already knew that.

Maybe after this, I'll tell you all about Jenny of Oldstones. A much more pleasing tale. None of this wolf king and fucked maiden shite that seems to be going on here. 

You come across another open door. Inside, a man who looks just like...no. No, no. It's not that fool Viserys. Please, you're such a bright girl, and he was not. But he does have the silver hair and purple eyes that your family possesses, and has a dignified, princely look.

"Aegon," he said to a dark-haired woman nursing a babe. "What better name for a king?"

"Will you make a song for him?" she asked.

"He has a song. His is the song of ice and fire."

He goes on. "The dragon has three heads, one more is needed," yeah, yeah, yeah. But I must say, he's a wonderful musician. Ask me later and I'll tell you all you wish.

You walk for what feels like an hour, tired and sweating. The hall ends at a stairwell that descends into a dark mist. Now this is just annoying. You're instructed to take the rightmost door, always go up, and this is what happens? There's no right door. Every door was on the left. Turning around, you see torches go out, darkness closing in. And a shambling noise from that darkness coming forward. Drogon shrieks and snorts out flames. As the torches keep fading, you stand in a panic.

"What is right?”

These warlocks sure love their malevolent castles. The door opens and you run through, finding yourself in a stone antechamber not unlike the ones you stood in when first entering this seven dammed place.

You go right, and right, and right. I'll spare you how many times you do this, it's quite boring really. And I'd hate for you to lose that beauty. You come at last to a dark chamber, a round open door on the other side of you. Pyat Pree stands on the other side, beckoning to you.

"Can it be that the Undying Ones are done with you so soon?" he asked in disbelief.

"So soon?" You say. "I have walked for hours and not found them."

Something does not feel right about this.

"You have taken a wrong turn somewhere. I will lead you to them.”

"Our lives are but a flicker of a moth's wings to them," you remember.

A closed door stands on your right.  
Decisions, decisions.  
I'd advise not following the creepy warlock. But that's just me.

And seriously, who would follow that guy? Have you seen his fashion sense? It's got to be a crime back in the Seven Kingdoms.

As he screams after you, you come upon a flight of stairs and take them up as far as you can go. Your legs ache from the climb. Finally, the stairwell opens into a set of beautiful yet foreboding doors. You feel unease as you approach.

Saying a prayer to the seven, you enter.  
Could it be? It is! Actual people! Not wolf kings or warlocks, but wizards? Their robes glimmer in the shining sun, and lovely music fills the air.

"Daenerys of House Targaryen, welcome," one of the wizards says as he rises to greet you.

They've been waiting for a thousand years, they say. You've passed all the trials, they say. And now they wish to bestow the secrets of dragonkind to you.  
But you feel doubt about their words, as does Drogon. He flies up to the doors and began to chew on the wall.

A young man watches Drogon and laughs. "A willful beast. Shall we teach you the secrets of dragonkind? Come, come."

Now why am I not persuaded? This all looks very lovely, but something tells me you're not quite finished. Drogon also really wants your attention. I mean, he's going at that wall. Those doors still lead to the right.

Yes, the wine, women, and song must wait. You are the descendant of Aegon the Conquerer, no? You need to get back to conquering sooner or later. You can have a lavish party when you're queen. And don't worry, you don't have to invite that prat Dave B. along, he never liked you...but I'm getting ahead of myself.  
The doors are heavy, but you finally push them closed. An older door sits on the right wall. Ignoring the wizards whispering sweet nothings, you push through this door and find yourself...

What...  
The fuck...  
Give me a moment.

Right, where was I? Yes, sorry. It's just that when I see human hearts and blue spectres I tend to go a little crazy. But if you're going to push on, then so will I. Will any other narrator do that? No, they mostly just mock you for not picking up that piece of mail back at the beginning of the game.

Anyway, the heart floats above a stone table. Blue shadows are gathered in their masses. 

"Mother of dragons," you hear.

The voices echo throughout the hall. Unsure of yourself, you sit down at the empty chair.

"I am Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and Westeros," you say.

They don't seem to hear you. You ask for their counsel, but receive no answer. The shadows, from what you can make out, are not even alive. It's as if their essence feeds the heart. Not a pleasant thought.

"What does this all mean?"

"...the cup of fire and the cup of ice..."

I'm seriously confused.

"I have come for the gift of truth," you say.

They seem to answer, in their own way.

"...mother of dragons, child of three..."  
"...three heads the dragon..."  
"...three treasons...three mounts..."

I'm no expert on prophecies, but these definitely match the description.

I imagine you want to hear more. I certainly do…

"Help me," you call out. "Show me!" 

They seem to mock you, but ultimately oblige. The images stream through your eyes, almost a blur. Your fool brother getting his golden crown, a handsome warrior flying the banner of a stallion, your other brother, Rhaegar, getting his chest smashed in and rubies flying from his breastplate. He says a women's name as he expires. Should I even tell you? We'll come back to that.

They continue. A blue-eyed king holding a sword while casting no shadow, a mummer's dragon amidst an adoring crowd, a stone dragon taking flight...

"...mother of dragons, slayer of lies..."

Silver strides through a meadow, a blue flower grows on a wall of ice (what about laws of nature?), and there you are at that house with the red door. Now what does that mean, and what do lemons have to do with it?  
You see a crowd of slaves adoring you. "Mhysa!" they shout. They want you, pulling at you. You bask in the adoration.

Suddenly, the visions disappear from your view. Those slaves reaching for you are replaced with those shadows. Your heart pounds fast. Drogon flies above you, fire in his eyes.

You find yourself immobile. I can't even do anything but provide a running commentary. Except...wait.  
Drogon tears at the heart and bathes the shadows in flame. Their screams echo as they're all consumed.  
Pushing yourself to your feet, you run to the door, calling Drogon after you. Pushing into the hallway, you see yet another never ending stream. Seven hells, I want to burn this place down myself.

Running down the brightly lit hall, you almost trip over the moving floor. No doors exist anywhere. You keep running, running, running.

At last...

Sunlight.

You're almost blinded as you run out into the world, the real world. Someone is not happy to see you, however. Pyat Pree spots you and begins cursing in a foreign tongue. And no, I don't speak Qartheen or Ghis or whatever it is. Don't ask.

The warlock rushes you with a knife, but he's felled by a most sweet sight - Jhogo and Rakharo wrestle him to the ground while Jorah kneels beside you in the grass.

"My Queen, are you alright?" The bear's sight was a greater comfort to you than you could imagine."

"Just let us leave this place," you say.

Later, you stand on the docks, ready to leave Qarth behind forever. What the hell did all of that mean?  
I don't know, but I imagine you'll find out soon enough. Mayhaps I'll join you again, so long as we don't do anything like that ever again. Nicely done, Dany. Now, shall you set sail for greener waters?

"It's time to go, Jorah," you say.

Slaver's Bay awaits.

You have kept your sanity.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed. Any thoughts?


End file.
